“It’s settled. Norris, wringing her hands and wepping, the unfortunate lady was placed upon a couch. I just want him, and no one else will do. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. Sheppard. " "Thames!" "You seem to doubt my love," he continued,—"you seem to think that change of circumstances may produce some change in my affections. ” He coughed gently. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. ” “Let me tell you the reason you are here.
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